


Desperate

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2018 [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crying, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kintober 2018 - Day 28: OmorashiThey both continue to enjoy it when Stiles is desperate to go.





	Desperate

They'd been driving for hours and Stiles was dying a little bit. He couldn't sit still anymore, squirming this way and that, legs tensed as he lifts his ass off the seat to relieve the pressure. Derek, the bastard, was smirking as he took yet another turn, leading them further away from people and businesses and _bathrooms_. 

“Fuck, seriously?” Derek's brows raised and he smirked further.

“You can give in whenever you want. Just say the word Stiles.” Stiles, for his part, just glares. “No? That's what I thought.”

Derek takes a few more turns and then suddenly they're on a road that could use paving over, because it's nothing more than hard packed dirt, pitted with ruts and bumps. Stiles whimpers when they hit the first one. Derek smirks more and reaches his hand over, settling it low on Stiles’ belly. When they hit the next bump, he presses down, making Stiles full-on whine. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Too much?”

“Nnnng.” Stiles can't make words right now, all of his concentration narrowed down to his bladder and the way he's clenching his muscles tight to stop from letting go. His feet are pressed hard into the floorboard, legs shaking as he tilts his body to keep his ass off the seat, keep from hunching over his stomach. His fingers scrabble and fumble with the button and zip on his jeans, trying to relieve the pressure. He sighs audibly when they come undone and he yanks the edges away from his skin. It's short lived, however, when they hit a particularly hard bump, and tears spring up in his eyes.

“Stiles?” There's concern in Derek's voice but Stiles just shakes his head, not ready to give in yet. “Okay.”

Derek's palm keeps alternating pressure low on Stiles’ belly, his gaze only half on the road. They're pretty secluded right now and he's not going particularly fast, so it's safe enough. Stiles’ whole body is trembling now as he tries to hold himself taut, to keep his bladder in check. Derek's cock is leaking in his pants as he watches Stiles whimper and cry. He gives into his own urge and slides his hand lower, fitting it through the front opening of Stiles’ briefs and pulling his soft cock out into the open. He strokes and tugs gently on it, thumbnail teasing the slit, and almost misses it when Stiles finally whispers out an actual word.

“Enough.” Derek yanks the wheel to the side, pulling them onto the shoulder and tossing the car in park as soon as he can reach across himself safely with his left hand, his right still holding Stiles’ cock.

“Okay, okay, hold on, just hold on.” He unclips both of their belts, and finally lets go as he quickly moves himself out of the car and around to the passenger side. Stiles’ body is writhing where he's still holding it aloft, but he holds on like Derek asked. As soon as the door swings open, he's shoving his face into Stiles’ crotch, snuffling at the base of his cock while his tongue flits against the head. He uses one hand to shove Stiles’ hips back down so he's sitting again, uses the other to push against his bladder from the outside. Stiles sobs as he finally gives in, piss spurting free on a pained noise. 

It soaks them both, steaming hot and dark, the scent overwhelming. Derek keeps his mouth open wide, lets it pulse and flow over his tongue, across his face, drenching his hair, Stiles’ lap, the seat beneath him. Derek moves his hand from Stiles’ hip to his cock, stroking it as the piss spurts and sprays over them, watching it fill even as the stream keeps going. 

“Perfect baby, so perfect for me.” He follows the praise up by sealing his lips around the head of Stiles’ cock, suckling softly as the last bursts of urine explode warm and acrid over his tongue. When it finally stops, he scrambles up, undoing his own jeans as he climbs into Stiles’ lap. He'd gone commando, like usual, and he springs free as soon as his zipper is down. He doesn't even notice the bite of it against his skin as he lines them up together, uses a puddle of piss from Stiles’ lap to wet his hand as he begins to stroke them off. Stiles draws him into a kiss, licks into his mouth and moans at the taste. It doesn't take them long, Stiles tipping over first, the warm pulse of his come dragging Derek over the edge.

Their kisses devolve into panting into each other's mouths, Derek's hand letting Stiles’ cock go but continuing to stroke himself, pinching at the head as the foreskin slides back over it. It's less than a minute before he's letting out his own gasping whine, twitching as his bladder gives up, adding another layer of wetness to them both. When he finishes, Stiles’ eyes are dark again, his cock half hard once more. Derek smiles and reaches past him into the back seat, pulling out two large bottles filled with juice. He shakes one at Stiles and smiles when it's taken, uncapping the one still in his hand. He settles back on Stiles’ thighs and guzzles it down, seeing him do the same.

“Think you can make it back home?” There's a challenge in Derek's voice, one eyebrow cocked up in question.

“Think _you_ can?” Stiles’ voice rises to meet his and they both smirk. Derek climbs back off Stiles’ lap, doing up his jeans as Stiles rights his own. When they're both as decent as they can be, considering they're both soaked and reeling, Derek moves back into the driver's seat and gets them back on the road, pointed back they way they'd come. “We're gonna have to detail the car.” Stiles’ voice is softer now, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the smell, the windows up. Derek's head waffles gently from side to side.

“I don't know about that.” Derek smirks at Stiles’ wide eyes before focusing back on the road. He has no intention of washing the car, he'll just stop using it for the pack. He likes the lingering stench of Stiles’ desperation, can't wait to make it even stronger, to twine his own in with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to prompt me if you'd like to see something added to this verse! You can comment anonymously on any of the parts or you can find me on [Dreamwidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/) \- where all of my additional contact locations are linked!


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